


when faced with a door

by alex_archer



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Blood, Dead Stiles, Drug Use, F/M, Ghost Stiles, Gore, M/M, Murder, dead!stiles, ghost!stiles
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-04-27
Updated: 2015-11-29
Packaged: 2018-01-20 23:19:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 15
Words: 7,772
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1529462
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alex_archer/pseuds/alex_archer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles never imagined what would happen if he and Derek saw each other. They weren't dating, they were just platonically going out, right?</p><p>That is, until Stiles got a gut full of werewolf claw.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is a oneshot. I have other material for it, but I'm only going to post it if people show interest.

Sometimes, I forget everything. Those days are the best days. I forget that I can no longer eat, or sleep, or even take a piss. I forget that when you die, you apparently don't go to a "higher place" like those Sunday Travelers say you do. Also, you don't get to revert to looking as great as you ever have, you look exactly how you died. To clarify, you end up looking like shit for eternity.

And forget those misguided thoughts about your life after death being like that Patrick Swayze movie, it's nothing like that. Mediums? Nope, they can't really see you. I've tried that. I've tried everything.

Now I just exist. I haven't found anyone else like me, and I've looked.

Now, the only person who ever noticed me has nearly given up on me, and my best friend can't bring himself to come to my house, so I'm trapped here, in my room, alone. My dad doesn't open the door, and I can't open it either. Oh, yeah! Another thing. The thing they tell you about ghosts being able to walk through walls? Total bullshit. I've run into the door so many times, and I've discovered that I'm corporeal, but I can't touch things. There's this barrier that prevents me from picking things up, or trying the door handle. I can't even open my blinds.

In short, being dead is hell. I don't even know why I'm stuck here, maybe it's because I had my stomach ripped through by a werewolf.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> People showed interest! Yay!!! :D So again, please comment or Kudos.

It's the first day of Senior Year. Well, not for me anyway. Scott ran off early so he and Kira can ride his new crotch rocket and arrive in 'style'. I don't blame him. I want him to live a normal life. I mean, it's not like his best friend died just over three months ago.

There's still no dad sighting, and I'm getting worried. Last time there was a death in the family, he recovered, but I'm all he has.

Scott said Derek walked by the house. If I could just talk to him. This state of being is a goddamn curse. If I could at least wiggle the curtains enough so that Derek could see me, I could talk to him! This is all conditional on the hope that I don't disappear into smoke when he sees me. That might be good, though... Right? He'd see me and it'd be way more awesome, and less embarrassing, than what happened when I was still alive and he looked at me.

It's hard to think about what could have happened between us, but being trapped in my bedroom makes it hard to think about anything else. Maybe I'm trapped here because this is where I wanted to end up with Derek? No, too easy. Maybe-

"Stiles!" Scott burst into the room, excitedly whispering my name before closing the door behind him. Had I been standing at the window for seven hours? It felt like five minutes. I guess time passes differently when you're dead. Scott's voice returned to his normal tone, "They had a memorial for you today. They put up a tree on the front lawn. If only you could see it!" He plopped down on the edge of my bed, dropping his backpack to the floor.

"If only I had a way to leave," I wished. I floated over to sit on my desk chair.

"Stiles... You know I tried to help you," Scott said, leaning closer to me.

"Yeah, I know. I was thinking, you could bring Derek here," I started. I looked up at Scott and I was surprised when I saw the look on his face. "What? What's the look for?" I asked.

"Stiles, do you not know who the werewolf was that killed you?" It was that moment that my concentration broke and I fell right through the chair, and through the floor.


	3. Chapter 3

"Stiles!" Scott yelled, nearly leaping down the entire flight of stairs in one go. He seemed to be yelling my name a lot lately. "Stiles, what just happened?" He ran over and knelt next to me. He held out his hands in confusion, as if he expected me to grab them and get right back up like I used to. Instead, I looked down at myself.

"Well... I think I just fell through the floor, Scott," I answered, my voice filled with latent sarcasm. I didn't actually know what the hell just happened.

"I thought you couldn't go through things, like you were alive, but not," Scott evaluated. I cocked an eyebrow and looked up at him. A smile grew on my face and I couldn't help but let out a laugh.

"Thanks for that brilliant display of your classic Scott McCall intelligence," I joked. Scott suddenly sit on the ground, his face fell with him. "What?"

"Dude, you haven't smiled or laughed since it happened," Scott answered. Immediately, my smile left. I let out a little air, figuratively of course, and looked down at myself. It was then that I realized I could feel the wood. I could touch the floor. The invisible barrier that was normally between myself and objects was gone.

"Stiles, why are you petting the ground?" Scott asked, a small smile forming.

"I think I'm starting to get a hang of this being dead thing," I uttered in sheer bewilderment. I stood up, and for the first time in months, I could stand on my legs. I wasn't just floating there, fake standing. I could feel my weight being put on my legs. I could feel my legs buckling, and then I felt the floor. Again.

"Woah!" Scott stood up and took a step back from me. I looked at him and smiled again, standing up once more. This time, I didn't immediately fall, and I even got a few steps in. Once I felt the imminent trip to the ground, I began to float again. I spun to look at Scott, "I can walk. I left my room. Maybe I can leave?"

"I don't know if that's such a good idea," he started. Hesitantly, he stepped towards me, "If certain people realized you were still here, we might be in trouble. You would be in trouble."

"I've got to try," I admitted. I drifted to the door and slowly outreached my hand. I felt my hand connect with the handle and I twisted it, giving a slight push. The door creaked open and I stood there. I looked out at the driveway and saw it. It was covered in a tarp, but I knew exactly what it was. Without another thought, I stepped through the door, only to appear back inside the house.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry for the delay in posting. It was a rough finish to the semester and my summer hasn't been going so well. Hopefully, there'll be regular postings about every other week or so! I appreciate you all sticking with me, and I love reading the comments and messages you all send me!

I don’t know why that was my first thought. Imagine someone had been able to see me? They’d just see a sickly boy with a hole ripped from his stomach. On the brightside, when I popped back into the house, I didn’t get sent back to my room. It was kinda like those video games that let you start from a checkpoint instead of the beginning of the level.

“Is there any way you can make yourself look better?” I snapped back to reality. Scott was still sitting in front of me, and I was still sitting on the floor. “If you try to leave, and someone sees you like this…”

I knew where he was going. If anyone saw me like this? “You mean if my dad saw me like this,” I looked down and put my arm across my stomach, but it did nothing to hide the cavernous gash across my abdomen.

“I don’t think he could handle seeing you like this again,” he started.

“Again?” I asked.

A look of confusion crossed Scott’s face, “Your body. He had to identify you. He headed the investigation into your death, well… Until…” His head turned as he looked down, breaking eye contact.

“I forget that sometimes. I forget I’m not in my body anymore. My body’s somewhere underground, rotting away. Well not really rotting. You know there’s five stages of decomposition? You told me it’s been a hot summer, so I probably would be way past the bloating stage, already into the active decay,” I mused.

“Stiles, stop!” Scott interjected. It wasn’t until he stopped me that I realized what I had been talking about.

“Sorry, Scott. You mentioned my dad was the one who was in charge of investigating? How could you let him do that? Couldn’t Parish take it? Or your dad?” I asked, not realizing I was kind of accusing Scott.

“He wouldn’t let anyone take the case, Stiles. You know how stubborn he gets. We tried, but he want to find who did this to you,” Scott gestured loosely to my stomach.

“You said you knew who did this to me,” Scott took a breath. “Earlier, when we were still in my room, you asked if I remembered who had killed me. Who was it? Did my father find them? Did he…”

“No, they’re still alive. Stiles, I don’t know if it’s best to tell you,” He continued. I stood, and Scott followed my lead. I stepped towards him, my legs finding new strength. I felt my fists curl into balls.

“You think so? They _killed_ me, Scott!” The lights around me dimmed, and the picture frames on the table rattled across the top, some falling to the ground. Scott’s shoulders curled inwards as he took a slightly defensive stance. “Who ever it was, who ever you’re trying to protect, stuck their claws into my stomach and tore it out!” I yelled. The furniture surrounding us began to inch away, scraping across the floor. A light bulb burst, and the front door burst open.

“STILES!” The lights returned to normal and the shaking stopped. Scott and I spun towards the front door. I fell to my knees, stopping myself from falling further with my hands.

“It’s not his fault,” the woman in the doorway defended. “It was mine.”

_ Lydia? _


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm going on vacation for two weeks, so I'm posting another chapter today. :)

“Lydia, what are you doing here?” Scott rushed over to Lydia, using an arm to try and stop her from walking closer to me. Her eyes were focused, her mouth slightly open, as she walked towards me. She tilted her head to the side, almost like she was studying me.

“Lydia… What’s wrong? You’ve got your banshee someone-just-died face,” I asked, stepping towards her. As soon as my foot touched the ground, she stopped and snapped back, her eyelids fluttered and she pursed her lips together.

“How did you know I was here?” Scott asked her. She turned to look at him, her eyebrow raised.

“Oh, please. Everyone knows you come here nearly every day,” Same old Lydia.

“Wait a second, Lydia! How can you see me?” I asked.

“I’m a Banshee, remember…” Lydia gently pushed Scott’s arm away from her, walking closer towards me. Her shoes clicked slowly on the hardwood with every careful step, “Stiles, you look terrible. I didn’t. I mean…”

“It’s okay, Lydia. I sometimes forget the effect I have on other people,” Not the effect I want to have.

“It’s worse than I thought,” She got close and lifted a hand slowly up to my cheek. I felt her hand touch my skin for a moment, our energies touched, before she quickly retracted.

“Did you just?” Lydia nodded in response. “How did you do that?”

“I have no idea,” She reached up and tried again, her hand passing through my cheek.

“They say Banshees can be seen by the victim they scream for. Maybe, that’s the same for touch?” I pondered.

“But you died months ago,” Scott added.

“Three. Three months ago,” Lydia confirmed. “The legend only mentions that thing about the screaming for victims who are about to died or are freshly dead. The victims normally are killed in bloody manners… A murder or suicide, if it’s violent enough.”

I looked down and gestured, “I think _this_ constitutes as ‘violent enough’, but not recent enough.”

“Maybe Derek will know?” Lydia suggested. Scott’s eyebrows raised and his jaw dropped.

“Lydia?!” She turned to face Scott, shrugging her shoulders.

“What’s the matter? It’s not like it was him who tore out his stomach,” I crossed my arms and turned away slightly. She had just confirmed that my worst fear was wrong.

“Who was it?” They both turned to look at me. “Who was it that did this? We were talking about it before, and both of you have been dodging it.”

“You don’t remember?” Lydia asked. Both Scott and I shook our heads.

“I don’t remember anything,” I started. “For the first few weeks, it’s all fuzzy. I just remember flashes of images and sounds, and the weightlessness. I slowly gathered my senses, and I was able to move. It was kind of like when you stand up too fast and the blood rushes to your head,” I  walked to the couch and drew my hand across the fabric, relishing in the moment. “For a few days, Scott came to the house and would sit in my room, staring at the wall. I would scream at him until he left. Then, one day, he could see me. I don’t know what happened, or what changed, but he could see me,” I dropped my arms and stepped towards them.

“Who killed me?” I demanded, my voice raising. “ _Who killed me!_ ”


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello all! I'm on vacation in the middle of the Wisconsin Northwoods, so I have very little access to WiFi. I was originally planning on not updating until I got home, but all the positive attention to my story has made me change my mind! So here! :D You guys get a sort of bonus chapter. I was originally going to post this later as a flashback, but it works in now with how the story is going! Read and enjoy! And don't forget to comment and/or kudo!

“AND I’M HUNGRY LIKE THE WOOOOOOLF!” I sang, my voice lost in the wind. My arm was draped out the open window of my jeep, my hair blown back due to my decision to go topless. In hindsight, that was a poor decision, who shows up to a date with windblown hair? But still, I felt good, better than I had in the past few months. The Nogitsune almost killed me, and it had a long lasting effect on me; it took a few months of helping Malia before I really felt like myself again.

Flicking my turn signal, I headed down a dimly lit street in the warehouse district. I turned down the radio, entirely content with my decision to play the most ironic song on repeat. I pulled the jeep in front of a building and put it in neutral. I snatched my phone off the seat next to me, and I tapped out a text.

_*here.*_

Smiling at the little lit-up screen, I typed another.

_*but you probably already knew that*_

I hit send as I looked up, watching the door. As soon as it opened, my smile grew even wider. The man who emerged was dressed in a grey undershirt, dark jeans, and black boots. I shook my head and stuck my head out the window, “You couldn’t even dress up?”

Derek stepped up to the passenger side door and looked me up and down, lingering on my hair. He raised an eyebrow and climbed into the jeep, “This is not a date.”

“Seatbelt?” I asked, shifting the jeep back into drive. Derek dramatically grabbed the seat belt and clicked it in, keeping a straight face and staring me down the entire time. With a chuckle, I added, “And it is so a date…”

With that, I sped off.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please bear with me! I'm on vacation, but I'm trying to update semi-regularly! :D

“Who killed me, Lydia? Scott?!” With every syllable, the tension in the room got heavier. The lights seemed to dim, and the air got thicker.

“Stiles, you need to calm down,” Lydia put her hands up defensively, her wide eyes scanning the room.

“How am I supposed to be calm?” My voice caught in my throat. “I was murdered. Don’t you understand?”

“We understand perfectly, Stiles. You weren’t murdered. You were killed,” Lydia spoke softly, as though she was explaining a simple concept to a child.

“Is there a difference?” I asked frantically.

“You were killed, Stiles, because you wanted it,” Lydia’s words stopped my heart, figuratively. They found me dumbfounded and still, aside from my hands beginning to shake. Lydia turned and gave Scott a look; he left the house quietly, leaving his backpack still in my room.

“Stiles, you don’t remember. That night… You sacrificed yourself to save me,” Lydia started.

And… That’s when I disappeared.


	8. Chapter Eight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry it took so long for me to start posting again. I had a few medical issues and classes started again. Hope you enjoy this new chapter!

You know what? Fuck it. Everything I told you earlier, everything about being dead? It’s wrong. Being dead is the best thing I could ever hope for. My entire life I’ve wished I could disappear when Lydia looked at me. For the first time, it actually happened.

“Stiles… Stiles!” Lydia called, “Stiles, where are you?”

“I’m not Beetlejuice, you know,” Lydia jumped as I popped up behind her.

“Stiles, I know… And I’m sorry,” When she spoke, her words were kind. It was like when your parents tell you a story before you go to bed, and they speak quietly to slowly lull you to sleep. Immediately, all my anger and disbelief disappeared. It was kind of like when you scratch a dog behind the ears and they settle into a lull. In fact, it wasn’t until this moment that I realized Lydia wasn’t wearing lipstick.

“It’s the first day of school, Lydia,” Just like that, the spell-like moment ended.

“Yeah, why?” Lydia turned away slightly, wringing her hands together.

“You’re not wearing lipstick, and you’re wearing flats,” I commented.

“Your death hit me hard Stiles,” Her body was stiff, her movement was irregular. “I was too close when it happened, you don’t remember but-“

“That’s it! I don’t remember. What happened to me Lydia? I stepped towards her, my rage returning. I lifted what remained of my shirt, exposing the ripped flesh and lacerations that were bone deep. “This isn’t the sort of thing that happens when someone jumps in front of another person to save them. This is what happens when someone wanted to inflict harm, and continued to inflict harm. This is what happens when someone’s targeted.”

“Fine. You want answers?” Lydia’s attitude came forth and what was left of the calmness in the room was ruined. “I’m a Banshee, Stiles. I know when someone’s going to die. I haven’t figured out how to tell who. I thought someone in Beacon Hills was going to die. I thought it was me, but it was you. I needed more information, I needed to learn how to single out who was going to die. I needed to talk to someone who had more experience with people like me. It was my fault, I didn’t want to go alone, and you came with. That’s what ultimately killed you. Peter was waiting for us, you and I walked into a trap. After Kate, Peter went crazy. He wanted to destroy Scott’s world. He wanted Scott to feel how he felt. He wanted to kill someone Scott loved. Someone who was close to him. He used me. Peter tricked us into going that night, and he’s the one that did that to you.”

If I wasn’t already dead, I would’ve been blue from having held my breath so long, “That’s why Derek has stayed away. That’s why Scott has been protecting you and not telling you anything. If I hadn’t brought you, you would still be here. I’m so sorry, Stiles,” Lydia crumpled to the floor. Just like that, I felt like shit. All the crap I gave Scott about getting Derek over here to see me, and constantly berating him to tell me what happened. I knelt down and put my hand on Lydia’s shoulder. At that moment, time seemed to stop.

_Images flashed through my head. The date with Derek, the frantic texts from Lydia, her and I heading to Derek’s loft. Then I was staring up at the ceiling of Derek’s loft, I felt cold. I could see Lydia crying, her gaze quickly switching between my face and my stomach. She was saying something, but it was muffled._

The images disappeared and time sped up rapidly. A charged passed from Lydia to me. I retracted my hand and fell backwards. Lydia’s eyes grew wide and her mouth opened with a gasp. I felt a dull pain in my stomach as I pressed my hand against it. I drew my hand away and noticed it was covered in blood. Blood that was wet and running down my forearm. Blood that should mean I’m alive.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know if I'm going to continue. Please comment or Kudos if you think I should.


	9. Nine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The quick update was due to the positive feedback I received. Also, it has come to my attention that someone drew something based off this story and posted it on Tumblr? If so, can someone find it and link me? I would love to see it!

The first thing I heard was a repetitive beeping. It sounded like when a kid clicks his pen in class, but it had a more ominous pacing and tone. The next thing I heard was a labored breathing, a sound which was all too familiar to me. When I opened my eyes, a blinding light met me with unwanted intensity. I immediately closed my eyes and weakly brought my shaking hand to cover my eyes. It was cold and there was a sensation almost like I couldn’t feel my own fingers.

As this was happening, the beeping got louder and the light got brighter. I started to feel the cold sheets beneath me. I felt a constant pinch on the inside of my arm. My body was covered in a scratchy blanket, which didn’t do too much to warm my body. I felt a small pressure on my stomach, and an odd tension when I twisted my body. I decided to open my eyes again and the light wasn’t as blinding as before. This time it only made the dull pain in my head throb.

I looked around and located the sound of the familiar breathing. – When I say breathing, it’s just a kind phrasing for low snoring. – My dad was slumped in a chair, his head was resting at an awkward angle, supported by his balled up jacket. I tried to speak, but what I said came out scratchy and airy. If the words could have been heard, they were blocked by an oxygen mask. Instead, I lifted my arm and hit my hand against the side rail of the bed. The noise did what I was expecting it to. My dad jerked awake. He rubbed his eyes, and as soon as his gaze met mine, and he realized I was awake, he ran to the bedside.

I smiled weakly and muttered, “Hey, Dad…” The words were more gasped than muttered, and a sharp pain shot through my torso. I grimaced in pain and my dad’s face hardened.

He spun around, “Mellissa! Mellissa we need help!” The beeping around me got more frequent and the pain spread from my stomach to my entire body as I began to convulse. I saw Mellissa McCall run into the room, followed my two unfamiliar nurses. They frantically read the machines around me and turned me to my side. One of the nurses held my dad at bay as Mellissa shined a light in my eyes and held my head straight. She put the light down and looked me in the eyes and said, “Stiles, it’s okay. You’re going to be fine.”

I looked away and saw my dad fighting the nurse as the beeping got even more persistent.  I met his gaze and, just like when I woke up, everything was faded. Only this time, it was in reverse. The cold returned to my body and I closed my eyes. The sound slowly disappeared and I could no longer feel the scratchy blanket, the sheets, or the tiny pinch in my arm.


	10. Chapter Ten

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So guess who went to the hospital and felt just like Stiles? Only I wasn't bleeding from my stomach, thank fully. Enjoy the chapter!

“Scott!” Lydia screamed, rushing forwards to apply pressure to my stomach.

_I was thrown against a column, and I felt something in my back crack. When I landed on the ground, I felt my arm pop out of its socket, and I screamed in pain._

Scott came running in the door as though he was just on the other side, waiting for a moment when he would be needed.

“You were supposed to leave,” I muttered, coughing when I found it hard to breath. For the first time in months, I felt the need for air. It was an odd sensation that was both welcomed and unwanted. Scott gave me a look, and I’d seen that look before, in a completely different situation.

_“Dude, since when are you into Derek Hale?” Scott’s head tilted, his eyebrow raised, and his god damn smirk walked itself onto his face. I slugged my backpack strap back up my shoulder, and I readjusted my sweater._

_“I don’t know, Scott! Maybe I’ve always been into him and I’m just really good at hiding it?” I proposed, shrugging my shoulders and pinching my lips together in a sarcastic way only I could achieve. Scott started laughing._

_“Stiles, you’re just about as bad at hiding secrets as Kira is good with a katana,” Scott said through his chuckles._

“Like I was about to leave you,” Scott said, his eyes flashing with a familiar glean, “Especially not when things were just getting interesting.” I chuckled, and immediately grimaced. A sharp pain shot through my torso, causing my vision to waiver.

_“Stop it!” Lydia screamed. She ran towards us and Peter threw her back with one arm._

_“Don’t… Test… Me, Lydia,” Peter said slowly, his teeth grinding together. “I am perfectly okay with killing you as well, but I’d rather not. Especially after you’ve done so much for me.”_

_He turned back to me, and slowly began to slide my body up the wall. I opened my mouth and began to gasp for breath, grappling desperately at his hand on my throat._

“What’s happening,” Lydia’s voice cracked and became hoarse. She turned towards Scott, looking for answers. Scott simply opened his mouth and shook his head.

_“The best part of twisting the life out of someone is hearing their heart beat flutter and then slowly get labored and forced. Unfortunately for both you and me, it’s not the kind of effect I want to have,” Peter jerked me to the side and threw me across the loft._

“I can feel my lungs,” I muttered. Both Lydia and Scott turned to face me. “I normally can’t feel air in my lungs, or breath. Now I can’t breathe, and I can feel my lungs needing the air.”

“What the hell?” Scott whispered. His ears flicked ever so slightly, and he tilted his head towards me, “Stiles, you have a heartbeat.”

_Peter walked towards me, dramatically touching his heel to his toe and making like he was walking on a tightrope. I could see Lydia holding her head and struggling to sit up. I was still gasping from the impact on the pillar._

_“Originally, I had planned on killing Lydia. She’s been a part of many of my plans, and a key part in this one specifically. Since I couldn’t kill Scott directly, I’m going to go at it a different way. When Lydia brought me his best friend, well she practically specially delivered you to my doorstep. All I have to do is make sure you suffer.” Peter jumped lightly on his feet and knelt down, his face coming close to mine. “Alphas can often feel when a member of their pack is in pain, and they feel the moment that member is killed. Now, it’s said that an Alpha can adopt a human into his pack. I’ve never seen it before, but it’s clear Scott has. He has many odd members in his pack; a Banshee, a Werecoyote, a Kitsune, and… you.”_

“What should we do?” Scott turned towards Lydia. She shook her head and readjusted her hands on my stomach. With everything that was going on, not one of us heard the car pull into the driveway, or the door open slowly. Everyone heard what happened next, “What the hell is going on?”


	11. Chapter Eleven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So yeah... I've been writing this in my boring classes, and I've got quite a few this semester... So expect about 1-4 semi-regular updates per week, sometimes multiple in one day... Hope you guys don't mind. :D

The first thing I heard was a repetitive beeping. It sounded like when a kid clicks his pen in class, but it had a more ominous pacing and tone. When I opened my eyes, a blinding light met me with unwanted intensity. I immediately closed my eyes and weakly brought my shaking hand to cover my eyes. It was cold and there was a sensation almost like I couldn’t feel my own fingers.

As this was happening, the beeping got louder and the light got brighter. I started to feel the soft sheets beneath me. I felt a constant pinch on the topside of my hand. My body was covered in a cotton blanket, which didn’t do too much to warm my body. I felt a small pressure on my stomach, and an odd tension when I twisted my body. I decided to open my eyes again and the light wasn’t as blinding as before. This time it only made the dull pain in my head throb.

I looked around, and the room I was in was empty. The beeping around me was all so frequent and varied that I focus on anything else. I lifted my head slightly and there was a curtain drawn across the entrance to the room. I could see people running back and forth frantically past the windows on either side of the curtain. I studied the room. There were signs such as ones that limited visitors to only two people per patient.

_“That thing is not my son,” he said, his voice strangely calm. “I buried him next to my wife months ago.”_

I blinked and my eyes rapidly checked the room, even though I knew the voice wasn’t actually here in the room, or even just outside the curtain. As I was thinking about this, a hand drew the curtain open and revealed a familiar face; Melissa McCall. Her eyes were red, and there were distinct dark spots under her eyes. Her shoulders were curved in, and her walk was clearly labored and weary. I immediately shut my eyes.

“The doctors are finished running tests, you can sit in the room with him now,” I felt someone walk past and heard them rest in one of the chairs next to the bed. “Scott, I don’t know what’s happening, and I don’t expect I ever will understand it. But is this possible?” Melissa’s voice was tired, but there was still a hint of hope in her tone. That made my mind rest a bit easier, knowing Melissa still believed I could recover.

“I don’t know, Mom,” I heard Scott comfort his mother and then walk to sit in the other chair next to me. “We just have to wait for him to wake up and Derek to get here, then we can get some answers.”

Something inside my chest decided to flutter, and some of the beeping got slightly more frequent. I hoped Scott hadn’t noticed that when he said Derek’s name, my heart began to race. After all these months, I was going to be able to talk to Derek, to touch him. I would be able to tell him it wasn’t his fault I left him that night. I wanted to tell him he didn’t fail to protect me, I never expected him to. It was entirely my fault, everything that happened that night.

_“Derek, Lydia just texted me and I have to go,” I locked my phone and slid it back in my pocket. Both Kira and Scott groaned, I swear I heard a slight growl in Derek’s throat._

_“You can’t leave us alone,” with him… I finished the sentence for Scott. He was hesitant to even do this double date, it was originally Kira and my idea._

_“Lydia needs me for some project for school, she’s confused on the factoring or something,” I was literally lying through my teeth at this point, and something told me Derek could tell. Not by my heartbeat, as I had learned LONG ago how to lie around Scott’s super-hearing. I put my napkin on the table, and looked at Derek to move out of the booth for me. He turned his head and raised an eyebrow, a smirk grew at the corner of his mouth. I knew exactly what he was thinking, ‘as if I’m going to let you escape.’ Instead, I put my foot up on the booth seat and clumsily climbed over Derek, he never moved once. I turned to Kira and Scoot, and I apologized. I turned to Derek and stole a kiss, quickly darting away before he could hit me._


	12. Chapter Twelve

I opened my eyes and muttered, “Will you be here when Derek comes?” Both Scott and Lydia’s heads swiveled to face me, a small smile grew on Lydia’s face. Scott nodded in confirmation, and I adjusted myself so I was sitting up slightly. It was hard to do the simplest of movements. Not just because I was in so much pain, but also because there were so many things attached to and inserted into me. There was an IV attached to the top of my hand, and a band around my arm that got tight every now and then. I did notice that there was a strap at my waist. _Were they keeping me strapped in just in case I become the walking dead?_

“Where’s my dad? I heard him com in the house, I don’t remember much after,” I asked and explained. Lydia’s face grew sad, and Scott’s became solemn. “What’s wrong? Is he okay?” The beeping grew rapid again.

“He’s fine, he didn’t want to be here,” Scott explained. My heart fell.

“He doesn’t want to be here? His son might be alive again and he doesn’t want to be here? Why?” My voice raised slightly.


	13. Chapter Thirteen

_*status update: he woke up and vitals are consistent. He went right back to sleep.*_

_*Scott, why are you sending me these? You know I don’t text.*_

_*i thought you might want to know how he’s doing*_

_*especially since you aren’t here*_

_*and we have no idea what the hell he is*_

_*and since it was peter who killed him*_

_*that was cruel*_

_*sorry*_

_*derek?*_

_*Scott, if you want to talk to me, call me. I’m not going to respond via text. You know that.*_

Scott’s eyes flicked up to look at Stiles. When he was sure Stiles was actually asleep, he stood and excused himself. His pace quickened as he hurried down the hall. Once he was at a safe distance, he pressed and held Derek’s speed dial. _Since when do I have Derek Hale on speed dial?_ Scott wondered to himself.

He pressed the phone to his ear, waiting for the ringing to end.

“What, Scott?” Derek’s voice was low and hurried. He was clearly annoyed.

“Why aren’t you here? He just wants to see you, to talk to you! It’s the only thing he wants,” Scott answered.

“I’m kind of busy right now, Scott. I’d be there if I could, you know I would,” Scott could feel how tense Derek was, and he instantly put Stiles’ wish to see him away.

“What’s wrong, Derek. Where are you?” Scott turned, watching the doorway of Stiles’ room.

“It’s fine, I’m taking care of it. Make sure he’s…” _safe_. Derek didn’t have to finish the sentence for Scott to understand.

“What if I can’t help him? What if his dad was right? What if this is something else, like what happened with the Nogitsune? Derek,” Scott let his worries flood into his voice.

“Then you can’t help him. That’s it. Listen, Scott. I have to go. I’ll be there later,” Scott opened his mouth to protest, but he heard the click of the call ending. Frustrated, Scott clenched his jaw and growled lowly. He pocketed the phone and headed back to the room.

* * *

 

“What if it was Allison? What if it was your daughter’s face on that thing in there? What would you do?” the Sheriff’s face was red, his heart racing. Chris Argent’s expression darkened.

“That’s not possible, you know that. Allison is dead. She’s not coming back,” Argent explained.

“That’s what we thought about Stiles! Now that _thing_ is here, and everyone’s ready to disregard common sense. I’m the first one to accept my son back, but that is not my son!” he kept his voice level, and for the first time, Argent was nervous around the Sheriff.

“What do you think it is?” Argent asked.

“Maybe it’s like the Kitsune – er… Nogitsune – thing? I don’t know, you people know more about this than I do. Maybe it’s in that thing. The Bestiality?” The Sheriff moved his arms while he talked, trying to express what he couldn’t express through words. Argent smiled slightly.

“The Bestiary. There isn’t anything in there that sounds like this. Remember, it’s not complete. It barely has anything on Banshees, yet we’ve got one here in Beacon Hills,” Chris offered his excuses. They were meager, but true. He wanted to help, but there wasn’t much he could do. He didn’t have experience with anything like this, and he couldn’t think of anyone he knew that did.

“Does this have something to do with Lydia? She was there that night,” the Sheriff postured.

“Have you spoken with Deaton?” Argent questioned. Before the Sheriff could answer, the door to the loft slid open and Derek lumbered in. He looked at the Sheriff and he growled in anger. He looked Argent dead in the eyes as he approached him. Derek took a wider path around the Sheriff, avoiding eye contact.

“I said you could use my loft, I didn’t say you could let _anyone_ in,” Both Argent and Stilinski knew what Derek meant.

“He came here, looking for answers,” Once again, Argent was making excuses.

“It wouldn’t be the first time,” Derek spoke.

“It also wouldn’t be the first time I didn’t get any when I came for them!” the Sheriff interrupted the tension, but he only added more.

“It wasn’t my fault you came here, drunk and angry,” Derek said under his breath, leaning his head towards Stilinski in a way that reminded Argent of Peter.

“Calm down,” Argent gruffed. He moved towards Derek, “Do you have any clues as to what’s happening?”

Derek clenched his fists, looking back at Argent, “No. I do know that the thing in that hospital is Stiles, at least it is in his body. His scent is the same.”

“Oh, so know we have to trust this? What kind of evidence is this? It’s been months, like you could remember a scent that long,” Stilinski accused.

“Of course I remember his scent,” Derek’s shoulders tensed and his brow furrowed. When he spoke, you could just barely see the tips of his canines growing, “He was my pack.”


	14. Chapter Fourteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the super long hiatus.

It’s like all my life has suddenly become another self, an alter ego. Only I’m more like Harvey Dent than Batman, at least Batman helped people. I’m just a monster now, with two faces. I’m either Stiles Stilinski and the Nogitsune or I’m Stiles and whatever the hell I am now. Lydia thinks it’s something to do with her, but I don’t know. For the past year or so, people say we’re connected. Deaton said we were tethered to each other, and she was the one who pulled me out of the ice water and back to life.

“Stiles?” Lydia mumbled, her eyes opening slowly. “You’re awake?”

“More awake than you, Lyds,” I answered. I attempted a smile, but found I couldn’t muster one up. My eyes flicked from Lydia to the door as Scott walked in, slipping his phone into his pocket. “What did he say?”

“Who?” Scott asked, avoiding eye contact, he’s not very good and deception.

“Derek. What did he say, Scott?” I firmly replied.

“Oh, it wasn’t Derek on the phone! It was-“ Scott’s eyes wandered.

“Don’t lie to me!” I yelled, “Your mom’s here at the hospital, Lydia and I are as well. My dad doesn’t- Ugh, who else could it be, Scott?” We finally made eye contact, and his were as wide as they could go. “I’m sick and tired of being treated like I’m not here! I’m not stupid, Scott! I understand what’s going on, and I’m scared too!” I let myself bellow.

“Stiles, I…” Scott began. Lydia rose from her seat, suddenly attentive.

“I just want support. I just want-“ My family. I want my old life back.

_Peter finally reached me. He knelt down to my level and smiled. His hand shot out and grabbed my throat. Coughing, my hands reached up to scratch at his arm. I felt my body lift from the ground, and Peter slammed me back on the pillar, fracturing the wood. My head cracked against the column, splinters fell to the floor, and a few drops of blood soon joined them. My vision was hazy, my lungs ached, my head pounded._

_“I could tighten my claws around your jugular and rip it out. It would kill you nearly instantly,” Peter said through his sick grin. “But then, that wouldn’t be good enough. If I kill you too soon, Scott won’t have a chance to save you. I need him to feel you dying, and come to your rescue only to find he’s too late.” Peters other hand drifted to my hairline and a nail traced along it. I could feel the skin separating beneath it, and beads of warm liquid beading at the split. His hand drifted down and unzipped my hoodie. The tips of his fingers pressed against my stomach, and he slowly pushed them in._

_“Do you think Derek or Scott will find you first?” Peter asked as he tore flesh. I screamed in torment. Clawing at my torso, he chuckled. He pulled his hand back, and I saw the blood- my blood spatter across his face and drip down his forearm. He removed his other hand from my throat, and I fell to the ground, slumping over._

_I grasped frantically at remnants of my shirt as my body racked with pain. My back had sharp pains shooting up and down constantly. My body curled around, as though coddling the wound would stop the bleeding. I tried to center in on Lydia. She was still slumped over. Her eyelids were fluttering, and tears streamed down her cheeks. Peter turned from me and walked slowly towards the door. He tilted his head down towards Lydia as my vision was fading, “Tell Scott I say hello.” The last thing I heard was the loft door sliding shut._


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So it's been a while, huh! Sorry, still working on my undergrad! I have made some changes to the style of the fic, and I hope you all don't mind! I switched the POV to third person in this chapter, and the following chapters will be the same! Now, I hate when this happens, so I will be going in and changing the original chapters. This means they'll all be revamped over the coming month! Because I'm doing this, I'll be able to write better and faster, so you'll get chapters more often. I'm hoping to have this story finished soon, because it's really been a block in my way for quite sometime. Once I finish it, I'll have more time to write my other fics and finished fics I've started but haven't published! I hope you stick with me. You all have been the reason I continued! I saw all your Kudos and Comments, and they really do motivate me! Keep 'em coming! ;D

“Stiles! Calm down!” Scott pressed Stiles’ chest against the bed, restraining his movement. Stiles found himself thrashing about, desperately searching for something secure and safe. Stiles tried to anchor himself, to find something I could hang onto to tell me _this_ was reality. Lydia stood next to Scott, her breaths steady and even. All he could focus on was her breathing, ever so calm. There was no concern on her face, and that dropped his heart like a rock. Her eyes were blank, the color completely matte. He’d never seen anything like it. That combination of disinterest scared Stiles into calming down. Scott lifted his hands into the air, and Stiles rose immediately.

“Lydia, what’s wrong?” It seemed like they’ve been asking that of her a lot recently. Most of the time, there was no answer and only left more questions. Why did Stiles expect anything else this time?

Lydia’s eyes flickered open and closed as quickly as her breathing pattern changed. She inhaled sharply and exhaled while turning to look at Scott. Something silent passed between them because, like a puppy with his tail between his legs, Scott scooted out of the room. Lydia’s focused turned back to Stiles and he became very envious of Stiles.

“It’s me!” Lydia’s tone said she was excited, but her expression just made Stiles’ skin crawl.

“It’s…. you?” Stiles watched the color flow back into Lydia’s cheeks, the light slowly slid back into her eyes as well.  Her lips turned back into the familiar Lydia smirk, and relaxed him a little.

“I mean, it was me! It was me who held you here!” _What the fuck? What does that mean?_

“You _held_ me here?” Stiles’ voice raised. If this was the answer to the past couple of months, it made absolutely zero sense.

“Stiles, I’m a banshee.” Stiles nodded. “I’m connected to death. Deaton said we were connected when you went to the Nemeton, when you brought back the Nogitsune-“

“Okay, I didn’t bring him back, he came along and I had nothing to do with it,” Stiles interrupted.

“I know, Stiles. What I meant was, when you brought back the Nogitsune, he knew, I think, that we were connected. I found most of the bodies, I even found you in the parking lot,” Stiles’ stomach twinged with the memory.

“What are you saying, Lydia? I know all of this, I _was_ there,” he pulled the blanket back from his legs and twisted to sit on the edge of the bed.

“I think, when you died, we connected again,” Lydia smiled even more, which unnerved Stiles even more. “I haven’t been able to tell you, but I first figured it out a little while before I came to your house. It was like in The Empire Strikes Back, when Leia senses Luke is still in Cloud City.”

“Wait, you’ve seen Star Wars?” Stiles’ smile complete surprised both of them.

“Of course I have, Stiles. Anyway, I knew you were still here, I just wasn’t able to realize it. I think you’re here because of me.”

Stiles let his feet hit the cold floor and he grabbed the jacket hanging by the door, hoping it was long enough to cover the hospital gown’s backside, and _his_ backside. Swinging it around to pull his other arm through the sleeve he noticed the ease at which he did so. It felt natural, despite not having touched or lifted anything for months. He looked down his arm and pulled his hand into a tight fist, feeling the muscles up his wrist tighten. It felt wonderful.

“Where are you going?” Lydia grabbed her bag from the chair, walking the few steps towards him slowly.

“Let’s test it,” Stiles smiled and pushed through the door to his room, rushing right past Scott and down the hallway. It took all of his self-control to not burst into a run. His legs felt good, everything did. “Find me!” His efforts went to shit and his pace quickened. Before he knew it, he was at full sprint, smiling towards the elevator. He came to a stop and reached for the button. Something inside of him egged him to press it, another part told him to look to his side. An illuminated sign called to him, and he was down his first flight of stairs before the elevator announced its arrival.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've also got two new Betas who will be starting next chapter and will help me edit the previous ones! So there's that! Hope you enjoyed!

**Author's Note:**

> Please comment, favorite, or leave Kudos! They're what keeps me going! :D


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